Stains of Crimson
by Jillian1
Summary: Mulder and Scully are drawn into a murder investigation, but don’t realize just how close to them the killer is… Until they're targeted. **COMPLETE!!!**
1. Default Chapter

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TITLE: Stains of Crimson

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AUTHOR: Jillian

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RATING: PG-13ish? Not, R, but it's violent and there's some adult themes and implied rape, but not of major characters. What it basically is, is the case file of a murder-rapist. So yeah, there's violence and gore and a little bit of good ole' MSR "fun stuff," lol, and if that bugs you, don't read it… but it's not R. (After all, ever since ff.net did away with NC-17, all the NC-17 fics are posted as R ones. And this is nowhere near any of that stuff.)

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FEEDBACK: Feedback no function Jillian well without.

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SPOILERS: Specifically Arcadia, and anything before is fair game.

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TIMEFRAME: Just after Arcadia.

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SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully are drawn into a murder investigation, but don't realize just how close to them the killer is… Please R/R!

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THANKS TO: My beta, Tefla. What would I do without her?! Have stories that ain't got no good grammar, that's what. Um, to Agent Balinski, as always. Oh, and to the Good Charlotte song "Bloody Valentine" as my muse.

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* * * * *

"Don't move," he said, sternly. His eyes stared into her, icy and cold.

"Please, don't..." the woman pleaded, blonde hair hanging in her eyes. She was crying; the black mascara she'd put on that morning was being washed away, down her cheeks. 

"Don't cry, Love. DON'T CRY!" he screamed, getting close to her face. His screams did not silence her as he wished they would.

"Please, don't hurt us..." she begged. 

It was too late for that now. He'd been watching her for weeks. She was stunning, and he loved her. Loved her. With a passion from deep inside his soul. Of course, loving her came at a price. Watching her came at a price. He had to see her husband when he watched her. Long nights he'd stand outside their window, watching. They had no children. He knew that he couldn't be the one for her. Her husband couldn't love her like he did. Even if she didn't know it, she was meant for *him*. Not her husband.

"Listen, Suzanne, I'm not going to hurt *you.* I love you, and I'm just going to get rid of *him*. And then we can leave this place, and you can come back to my house. I'll wash my hands of *him*, and so will you. You and I will live happily ever after."

"No, no, please, no," she begged. 

Her husband made no sound. He was gagged with a handkerchief.

"Yes, Suzanne. You'll see. You'll see how much I love you."

With that, he walked away from her. He ripped open the man's button down shirt. Buttons flew across the room, and fell noisily on the hardwood floor. The man began to struggle, but his hands were tied behind his back. He thrashed his feet, but the other man was on top of him. The woman kept screaming, yelling, but he ignored her. She would see later, he was sure of it. She'd see how in love with her he was. That was why he had to kill her husband--what was his name again? Gary? It didn't matter.

He pulled the shirt open, exposing the man's chest. Gary, yes, that was it, was in good shape, in his thirties probably. His toned chest heaved up and down as he began to panic. His wife continued to sob and scream, praying someone would hear them. Gary began to scream into the handkerchief when the man on top of him pulled out a knife. 

The man brought the knife down in a sure, purposeful manner. Yes, this time he was *right.* Suzanne was the one. Not like the others, not like them. They didn't work out in the end, he had to get rid of them. Suzanne, she was different. He was *sure* of it. The knife made contact with her husband's chest, and she started screaming again, sobbing. Gary groaned with pain, but it did nothing to stop the man.

He administered the cut with precision, as he had to others. He knew so well by now where to get them--the heart. This woman was not Gary's to love. No, she belonged to HIM now. This was the only way he could make Gary, and Suzanne, realize that. He grinned at his handiwork, noting how perfect and straight the cuts were. 

The woman's eyes grew wide when she heard and saw her husband stop struggling. In seconds, she was able to see why. The man was holding her husband's heart in his hand. That was all she could remember before she fainted. Her head hung forward, and her hair draped down covering her entire face now. He knew he should start moving her out to the car before she woke up. 

So he could take her home. Burn his gloves, burn her husband's heart in his fireplace. Clinically, he put the heart in a small ziploc bag to avoid getting the car bloody. He couldn't leave anything behind, because he had things to do. He had to take her home, and change her life. Make her love him, make her forget her husband and what he'd done to get rid of him. Just like with all the others, except that this time, she *would* forget her husband, and she *would* love him, he was sure of it.

All he could think was, the third time's *got* to be a charm, right?

****

* * * * *

"Skinner's going to chew us out for finding an X-File in this case, you know." Scully sighed as they drove along the roads of Washington, DC.

"Well, the X-File was there, Scully. Were we supposed to ignore it?" Mulder asked.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I know what happened, and so do you. There was something very dark lurking at the Falls. Skinner, however, sent us out under the impression that it was a clean-cut murder. Apparently, garbage monsters, or Tulpa's, whichever you prefer," she smiled, "are attracted to you and I."

"Skinner'll always *find* something to be pissed about. When was the last time you saw him smile?"

"I don't think I've ever seen him smile. He's a serious person." Scully said. "Hey, Mulder, I've got to run into the deli on State Street. You think you could drop me off and wait while I run in?" she asked. They had taken one car to the airport, and it was Mulder's.

"Yeah, actually, I'll come in with you. The orange juice in my house is about three years old." Mulder grinned.

They pulled up outside of the deli moments later, and got out of the car. They walked into the deli, and Mulder went to grab orange juice while Scully went to the butcher's counter. They'd spent time actually living together on their last case, undercover as a married couple. For both of them, it was an enlightening experience. How many times had the situation crossed their minds? What would it be like to live with their partner? To marry them, even? Of course, they were friends, and partners, and it would complicate everything. That did nothing to change the fantasies of domestic life they played out in their mind. A marriage, a home in a nice planned community (minus the monsters), and less than sixteen pounds of pet. And they could always adopt two point five children. It could be the ideal life.

Both of them tried not to think that way, though. It would never happen. They loved each other, but they could do nothing about it. It wouldn't be right. They didn't want to compromise their partnership, but more than that, they didn't want to compromise their friendship. When the thoughts of candlelit dinners, roses, and lazy Sunday mornings together crept unbidden into their minds, they regarded them as mere daydreams, fantasies; things they wanted but could never, ever have. They had each made promises to themselves never to overstep their bounds as friends; and although they had some reason to believe the feeling was mutual, they'd never be sure. Not unless they tried to cross the line.

Sighing to herself, Scully's meandering mind was pulled back to reality when she realized she was the next to be served. She waited as her usual butcher, Jack, walked towards the counter. He knew her fairly well, since she always bought her meat at the same place. He saw her and grinned a bright smile. He had to be about her age. He was tall with blonde hair, a bit shorter than Mulder's, that always seemed mussed. He had a chiseled face with a bit of razor stubble that outlined a lingering beard, and bright blue eyes that mirrored Scully's. He was a handsome man, she'd noticed that many times before. They'd never had a full conversation, but were pleasant acquaintances. If she wasn't stuck loving her partner, whom she promised herself she'd never become intimate with, she might've had a thing for her butcher. 

"Hey Dana, what can I get you?" he asked.

"Oh, I just need a pound of turkey, sliced very thin, please," she smiled. She never could eat her cold cuts if they weren't sliced thin.

"Ah, the usual," he grinned, and walked off to slice the order.

As she waited, Mulder walked over to the deli counter with a carton of orange juice in his hand. It felt so domestic for a moment, the two of them picking up groceries for the week.

"So, Scully, what are you going to tell Skinner?" he asked.

"That the real X-File is why no one taught you how to keep a bathroom clean," she teased.

He laughed a little and she added, "I'm going to tell him exactly what I saw. Which is mostly nothing. A large black creature that left foot prints."

"How is it that every time I see proof, you're either unconscious or locked in closets?" Mulder smiled.

"Must be fate," she grinned back at him.

The butcher, Jack, walked back over and handed Scully her order. "You can pay up front," he said. 

She nodded and said, "Thanks, Jack. Have a nice day." 

"You too, Dana, you too," he watched her walk away with the man next to her.

They paid up front and walked back out to the car. Once they got inside, Scully looked over to Mulder and said, "You want to finish the paperwork up at my place?"

"Sure, that sounds good," he replied, and headed towards Scully's apartment.

They spent the evening filing expense reports and the like, which was horribly boring. They had to report into work the next morning, but it was barely past dinner time when they'd finished their work. When the agents didn't have any work to worry about, they realized how hungry they were.

"You wanna order something in?" Mulder asked.

"Well, I've got turkey, we can make sandwiches," she offered.

"Okay, that works." Mulder grinned. Besides, how many times a week could he eat takeout for dinner?

As Scully made the sandwiches for both of them, she couldn't help but feel like she did back in California. Here she was making his dinner, as he sat on the couch flipping channels. She smiled to herself, thinking they might as well be married. Evenings like these, they had a married life, minus the really fun parts. But that would ruin things. That would ruin this, their delicious balance of friendship, work, and secret desire. No matter how strong the desire was, she couldn't be sure she was willing to take the risk.

****

* * * * *

He crouched outside her window, angrily. He'd been watching her for quite some time now, since before she left. She was sitting with *him* in the living room. Who was he? Her lover? It made sense, didn't it? All the ones he loved were with someone. How he wanted to love her--to run his hands through her silky red hair, to hold her in his arms! To love her. 

He had been interrupted in his second day of watching her, when she left for a while. He wasn't sure where she went, but she was back. Now she was with this man! He must be her lover. What man could be so close to such a beauty and resist her? *She* was the real one. The other three women, he couldn't even remember their names when he looked at her. All he could think of was having a life with her--and killing anyone who was in his way. That meant the man in her house, sitting on the couch beside her. So close to her. 

Where he desperately longed to be.

He'd have to figure out where this man lived, so he could pay him a little visit sometime soon. He decided he had to follow him home when he left, praying it was before the morning. How could he stand to watch him touch her? She was so beautiful when she slept, but he'd only got the chance to watch her once. He would come back after figuring out where Loverboy lived. So that he could watch her sleep, and revel in how he would make her love him. Make her forget all about Loverboy.

Yes, this time, it was *REAL*.


	2. Chapter Two

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Mulder and Scully fidgeted as Skinner rambled on and on about how much money they spent in California. It wasn't *their* fault Big Mike dropped the box of equipment. They had plenty of extra dishes, though. When Skinner finally finished tallying up all of the things the Bureau would have to pay for, he took out a new case folder from his desk.

"Agents, there's a case that Violent Crimes has been having trouble with. It may be paranormal, it may not be, but the truth is--they're at a loss to find out whatever's going on. In the past month, three women from the DC area have been abducted. Their husbands or boyfriends have been killed, with their hearts cut out. The hearts haven't been found either, and none of the women have turned up. The most recent attack was last Monday. We're fairly certain he'll strike again. Agent Scully, your forensic expertise will be needed. The bodies have been autopsied by the coroner, but I was hoping you could look them over and see if you could find anything further. They didn't find any forensic evidence. Mulder, if you rule out any form of the paranormal, your expertise as a profiler would be greatly valued on this... We need to catch this guy and find these women."

"Yes, Sir, Agent Mulder and I would be glad to help," the agent said, brushing an errant strand of red hair behind her ear.

"Good. Agent Scully, the bodies are being shipped to Quantico, they should be there this afternoon."

Skinner handed the folder to Mulder.

"Sir, is this an X-File?" Mulder asked.

"No, Agent Mulder, not as of yet. You don't seem to have a problem finding them in regular cases though, now do you?" the AD asked. "You can go. I suggest you begin an investigation immediately."

As they walked out, the AD called to them a last time, "Agents, I wanted you on this case because you're good--whatever's going on, I'm confident that you'll stop it. Don't let me down."

"Yes, Sir," Scully nodded quietly, and left the office with Mulder.

As they walked out of the outer-office, Mulder looked to Scully and said, "Another case that isn't an X-File, Scully. I mean, didn't we get the unit back?"

"Yes, Mulder, we did. And we don't necessarily know that this *isn't* an X-File. Where are the hearts? And the women?"

"You don't believe it's paranormal, Scully, you know that."

"No, I don't believe it's paranormal. But that doesn't mean you can't find an X-File in it," she smiled.

"Sometimes I wonder, Scully, why they don't just fire me. Wouldn't it be easier than going out of their way to make sure I don't find what I'm looking for?"

"Mulder, I think you may be overanalyzing this. Either way, we've got this case, and there are three women who could be in danger."

"All right, Scully. I'll go through the case file, and you call me after the autopsy. Do you need anything from the file?" he asked.

"No, the coroner will have a copy of the autopsy results. They hadn't picked up any hair, fibers, or prints yet, but maybe I can find something. I doubt it, he sounds like he knows what he's doing."

"Okay, well, call me as soon as you finish the autopsies. We'll meet up and go over the results."

* * * * * * * 

He followed Loverboy home, noting he also lived in an apartment building. Unlike her, however, he wasn't on the bottom floor. He watched him walk into the building, and about five minutes later saw a light go on in one of the windows. He assumed that must've been where Loverboy lived. Of course, he wouldn't attack him yet. No, he'd have to wait until she was there, his Love. Then, he'd show her that she didn't really love this man, Loverboy, whoever he was. He stayed outside the apartment for a little while before driving back to *her* place. Dana. He even knew her name. Of course he did, they were soul mates.

It was easier to watch her, because he could look right inside her first floor window from his car. He could see several rooms in her house, and he'd stay there for hours at a time. He had to work during the week, which nearly drove him mad. He never had the time to follow her to her own place of employment, which remained unknown to him. He imagined she was so many different things... She was smartly dressed, so it was probably a good job. A lawyer, maybe? An accountant in a business firm? Maybe even a doctor. Something successful, he told himself, because she was perfect in every way.

He would strike when they were together, preferably at Loverboy's home. This way he wouldn't have to ruin her carpet with the blood. Then he'd break in, kill him, and steal her away. She'd fall in love with him, not like the other women. They never worked out in the end, but this time he could *really* feel it. Not like with the others. She would love him. That was all he really wanted.

* * * * * * 

Mulder sat in his apartment, looking over the file. It wasn't paranormal, he could see that right away, so he tried to get inside the killers head. The women had nothing particular in common. They ranged in age from thirty to thirty-eight, and from the photographs in the file, they were all very attractive women. He killed their lovers by cutting out their hearts. He probably destroyed them afterwards, explaining why they were nowhere to be found. Then he'd take the woman home. He probably stalked them before attacking, becoming obsessed with them. He most likely felt an insane passion for them, wanting nothing more than to be the object of their affection.

He wasn't solely in it for sex or to rape them. He cut out their lover's hearts to break the connection between them. He wanted her to focus her love on *him*, not her former lover. He probably did not envision himself raping them, but saw it as consensual intercourse. He most likely took the women to his home, and then tried to coerce them into sex. When they refused, and in the same action refused to love him, he most likely forced them by raping them. Afterwards, he probably killed them when he realized that they wouldn't love him. That would account for the multiple victims; he just kept trying to find someone who would love him. He was most likely a white male in his thirties, but that could be easily discerned from the victims. He knew what he was doing, since he'd left behind no evidence.

The phone ringing caused him to snap out of profiler-mode. He glanced down at the notes he'd jotted down, which outlined his inner-monologue. He hated getting into killer's heads, because they were terrible places to be. Afterwards he felt sick, but he knew he had to do his job. If he could save people, feeling sick afterwards was worth it. 

"Yeah," he said, picking up the receiver.

"Mulder, it's me," his partner's voice replied.

"Hey, Scully, did you finish the autopsy?" he asked.

"Yeah, nothing too unusual. Little things here and there that could help in your profile, though," she said.

"All right, we'll meet up to go over it," he said.

"Sure. Should I come by your place?" she asked.

He glanced around the room. Dirty clothes, several tapes and a magazine that "didn't belong to him," and an empty pizza pox were sitting around. He'd have to clean if she was coming to his place.

"Uh, no, I'll stop by your place," he said.

"All right, I'll see you in about twenty minutes?" she suggested.

"Sounds good. See you then," Mulder said, hanging up the phone.

* * * * * *

He watched her walk into her apartment, sitting in his car down the street. He loved the way her red hair would blow back in the wind, and how she'd tuck the errant strands behind her ears in response. Her smooth stride enthralled him, and he wished he could be close enough to hear her heels click along the pavement. Click, click, click, up the stairs to the door. In the door, to the hall. She'd grab her mail, and click down the hall into her apartment. With the same precise timing as always, the light would switch on in her window. She was inside. He was lucky, because on clear evenings her blinds were often open out in the living room. She'd leave them slightly open in the bedroom, too, and he imagined it was so that she could gaze at the stars. Gaze and wish for a love like *him.*

But it was too early for her to go to bed. It was only the afternoon, but the place where he worked closed early on Monday's. He had taken advantage of that to come watch her. To be close to her. His bliss, however, was interrupted when he saw another car pull up to the apartment building. He watched the man emerge from the door, hate burning in the cold eyes that followed him up the stairs. Why did she love this guy? He was too tall, too lanky. He dressed smart-casual, like her male counterpart would. Maybe they worked together. He wasn't sure, but he knew that this man, Loverboy, whatever his name was, was keeping *her*--Dana--away from him. Dana. He loved the way her name sounded on his lips. Dana.

* * * * * *

Dana Scully had only been inside her apartment for a few moments when she heard a knock at the door. She knew it would be her partner, and called, "Coming!" as she walked towards the front of her apartment. She placed the autopsy findings on her coffee table and wandered towards the door. She glanced through the peep hole (she'd had one to many break-ins *not* to check) and opened the door.

"Scully, I'm home," Mulder teased, a la Ricky Ricardo.

Scully grinned and said, "We may both be redheads, but I'm not Lucy."

"No, you never did hide in my bongo drum, did you?" Mulder smiled.

"You never had one."

"Touché," he smiled back at her.

"Anyway, I autopsied all three bodies. They were very uniform, all the same," she began, walking towards the couch. She flopped down and he followed her example.

He reached for the findings on her coffee table and said, "So it looks like this guy knows what he's doing, huh?"

"Definitely. Check out the incisions he made. No hesitation cuts," Scully said.

"Which means he knew he was going to kill them, which fits with my profile so far," he said, pulling the crumpled piece of paper with his profile from his pocket.

"Not only that, but he has experience with a knife. He knew exactly where and how to place the cuts to extract the heart. We could be looking for a surgeon."

"Good point, although we have to keep in mind it could be *any* career with a knife involved--any number of professions could help him make a clean cut, from medicine to the culinary arts."

"So we're looking for a surgeon or a chef," Scully said.

"Or a knife thrower," Mulder quipped.

"So, what have you got from your profile so far?"

Her partner handed her the crinkled paper, and watched her blue eyes scan over it.

"So we're looking for a middle aged man, with knife experience, and who feels like he needs love?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's pretty general, but this guy left behind next to nothing. If we knew anything further, we could pick out who he was watching. He's probably encountered her a few times, casually, and they may even have known each other as acquaintances."

"You know, it's funny, but all those women looked familiar to me."

"Well, they're all from this area, there's a great possibility you've seen them around. If we could link all three of them to one place, we could figure out where he's finding them."

"I don't know, they weren't distinctively familiar, just like someone I may have seen once before," she said, faltering to make any connection.

"Well, if you figure out where you've seen them, it could help a lot," he said.

"All right," she sighed. "This isn't an easy one, huh?"

"No, and I'm afraid we may not be able to stop him until he kills again. That could further our investigation, but it'll be tough to prevent another death."

"Well, first thing tomorrow, I'll have a background check run on all the missing women. Maybe they've got something distinct in common," she said.

"I doubt it, but it's a possibility. It's most likely something small, not even noteworthy."

"Unless they all share the same surgeon. Maybe I've seen them all in the ER."

"God knows we're there often enough," Mulder added. "Like I said, it's a possibility."

"I'll call Skinner and see if anyone is available to start checking it out tonight, although it's past five. Most agents have left by now."

"True. Well, see what you can get started. Maybe there's a suck-up around who'll do it if Skinner asks. If not, we can start out on it first thing tomorrow in the office."

Mulder added things to his profile outline as Scully made the phone call. An experienced knife user, who knew how to make a clean cut and extract the heart. Doctor? Chef? He jotted the terms down, wondering where these women could've been that the killer had seen them. Scully had a point, they could've all been patients. A doctor, especially a surgeon, however, seemed to intelligent for this type of love-starved crime. It was still possible, but not as likely as a chef. Maybe they all ate at the same restaurant. Either way, finding this guy wasn't going to be easy; he'd left behind nearly nothing for them to track him with.

"Well," Scully began, hanging up the phone. "He said he had an agent who'd begin tonight, but he probably wouldn't finish all three of the checks by midday tomorrow. He's having the husbands checked, too," she said.

Mulder nodded.

"I'm starving, I skipped lunch to do the autopsies. You want to order something?"

"Sure," Mulder said, hungry himself. He often forgot lunch when he was profiling a suspect.

"Chinese sound good?" she asked.

"Yeah, great," he replied.

She ordered the food and walked back towards the couch. She forced herself not to think about how much time she'd been spending with her partner. Not to think about how close they had become, and how close she longed they would be. No, she told herself. The case. Think about the case. It had been quite some time since anything was said, as Mulder was lost in thought along with his partner. His sharp mind pondered several riddles, ranging from the murder to his beautiful partner walking idly towards the window. 

"The weather's gotten pretty warm for March," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "I've had enough of winter."

"I've never cared much for winter, after the holiday season, of course," she said. She opened her curtains and then the window a bit, feeling the cool breeze blow into the room. It was stuffy in her apartment, and if she didn't open a window, it would reek of fried rice and egg rolls for days.

Some time later the food arrived, and they made conversation as they ate. They discussed little things; the weather, politics, the case, and even a bit of office gossip.

"Skinner's been extra irritable lately," Scully sighed. "He snapped at me on the phone when I asked about the checks. Something about us dumping work on other agents."

"Well, the other day I overhead some agents saying he was sleeping with his secretary. Maybe he overheard the rumor, and it's getting to him," he paused, "or maybe she stopped sleeping with him," he laughed.

"Heh," Scully laughed, swallowing some fried rice. "If that's what they say about those two, imagine the rumors going around about us," she sighed.

"Well, it was long ago you were named Mrs. Spooky," he sighed.

How she longed to REALLY be Mrs. Spooky. How he longed for it, too. Rules. Regulations. Partnership. Friendship.

"I've overheard far worse. The speculation some agents have about what goes on in our basement office is ridiculous."

"I know. It's not even speculation anymore, that's the funniest part. They're sure of it. Sure of something that's not even true," he said.

"I know!" she said, a small smile on her face. "Just because we're a man and a woman doesn't mean we're having sex."

"Try telling that to agents like Colton."

Ah, Colton. He always had the hots for Scully anyway. Mulder could see it all those years ago. Colton, by the way, never made his way too far up the ladder. He fell on his ass one to many times.

"Colton's such a phony. I can't believe I was ever friendly with him in the academy."

"His remarks were all fueled by jealousy, you know. He liked you, Scully, a lot. Just the way he looked at you..."

"Oh, come on, Mulder. Colton did *not* find me attractive," she said.

"Are you blind, Scully? I'm a guy, and I know the look we give an attractive woman. You get it all the time. Everyday."

She *blushed* a little, actually blushed, and said, "You don't have to say that, Mulder."

"It's true, Scully. You're an incredibly attractive woman, and plenty of Bureau men think so. Why do you think they all hate my guts? I mean, beyond me being Spooky?"

"Thank you, Mulder. That's sweet," she sighed. It was a shock to her system to hear him admit he found her attractive. Somewhere inside she always knew it, but outside her mind told her there was no way. She wasn't his type, she was his friend, and that was all. It was nice to hear him flatter her like this.

As the evening wound down, they lounged on the couch. Mulder found his eyes drifting away from the television, and landing on his partner. How could she believe he didn't find her attractive? She was stunning, absolutely ravishing. Perfect. A natural beauty, intelligent, loyal, funny, caring... The endearing qualities were far to abundant to name. She glanced at him, and awkwardly cast her eyes away. She glanced back again, finding his eyes still on her. He was *staring*, oh god, he was actually staring at her. What should she say? Quick, something witty.

"Don't stare, it's not polite," was the wittiest thing her brain could come up with.

He grinned and said, "Can't help it." Where was he going with this?

She laughed a little, a quiet, modest laugh, and a strand of hair fell in front of her eyes. He slowly moved his hand towards her face, and in a gentle caress, moved the hair behind her ears. He gently stroked her face while doing so, and she felt an involuntary shiver run through her body. Say something. What could she say? Suddenly everything felt right. No. It had to be wrong. They couldn't do this. His eyes stayed locked with hers, but he said nothing.

"I, uh, it's getting late," she said.

"Yeah. I guess I'd better be going," he said. What was he thinking? This couldn't happen. He rose from the couch and she followed to see him out.

"I'll see you in the office tomorrow," she said.

"Yeah, see you then. Scully?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"You really are beautiful," he said the words before he could think about it. 

"Thank you," she said, and grabbed his hand. She gave it a little squeeze.

After he left she closed the door and leaned against it. Exhaling loudly, her mind raced. Beautiful? She hadn't felt beautiful in ages. She'd felt like one of the boys, but she never let it bother her. After all, wasn't that what she wanted? Equality? Of course, part of her, the part that longed for her partner, also longed for him to look at her as a woman. Instead, she went to work in a man's world, demanding equality and respect. Now, though, hearing these words come from *his* mouth, she felt like a goddess. A confused goddess, but a goddess nonetheless. What could she do? He found her attractive? Had he meant it? What if he had? She had been falling in love with someone completely unattainable for the last five years of her life. How was she supposed to stop that?


	3. Chapter Three

As he walked to his car, he wondered what made him tell her. He'd been thinking it for years, how beautiful she was. How she probably never suspected he thought so, or that maybe she didn't want to hear it from him. Maybe she simply wanted his respect, friendship, and partnership, but nothing more. He knew that wasn't true as soon as the words came out of his mouth. She became flushed, and her breath caught in her throat. He could imagine the beating of her heart against his chest...but would that be fair? To her? To him? To them?

He didn't know. She didn't know. They tried not to think of each other that night, and tried to concentrate on the case. It didn't work; how can you replace dreams of love with nightmares of murders? They both slept fitfully, their mind too busy to want to sleep. The burning questions in their minds tortured them--almost as much as the fact that they couldn't ask for the answer. It was too risky. It had been for years. Still, that answer was closer now than it had ever been.

* * * * * * *

He watched them eat together. He had been lucky, the weather was favorable and she had opened a window. He watch her perfectly toned arms open the window, wishing he could be held in them. Wishing she'd love him. He pulled his car down the street, closer to her window. He watched as they sat down on the couch together, but when he saw Loverboy brush a strand of hair from her face, he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand to watch them together. He sped away, knowing he'd come back later that night. He had noticed Loverboy never stayed the night. He wasn't good to her, not like *he* could be. Would be. Soon.

* * * * * * *

The next morning, Mulder found Scully in the basement office. "You're here early," he commented, and she answered with something about the case. She knew the real reason she was in early was because she couldn't sleep, couldn't think... She needed to get back on the case, to take her mind off of her partner. She had decided that she had been acting childish. There was no reason to fawn over her partner, it was silly. 

"Did the background checks come in yet?" Mulder asked.

"No," she began. "Skinner told me to give the agent an hour or so, and that was forty minutes ago when I got in. So we've got twenty minutes."

"I brought breakfast," he said, lifting a brown paper bag. "Coffee and blueberry muffins."

"Thanks, Mulder," she said.

The time passed uneventfully, and too their surprise, not awkwardly. When they really thought about it, they knew it wouldn't be awkward. An offhand comment (which was what Scully had reduced it to), or even an admission of physical attraction, would never come between them. About fifteen minutes later, they heard footsteps coming down the hallway, followed by a knock at the open door to announce an agent's presence. The two agents looked up from their computers, and smiled a greeting at the younger agent at the door.

"So this is the basement office," he smiled. "They spoke about it in the academy, but I've never been down here."

"Can we help you, Agent..."

"Pepenella. Actually, I'm here with your background checks."

"Thanks," Mulder said. "I'm Agent Mulder, and this is Agent Scully."

"No need for an introduction, you guys are legends," the younger man said.

They smiled, inwardly thinking that they were legends for all the wrong reasons. Not for what they had uncovered, but for their reputation as being Agent Spooky who pulled his once-rational partner into a downward spiral of paranormal madness.

Agent Pepenella handed them the folders with the background checks and said, "It was nice meeting you."

"You too, Agent. Thanks again," Agent Scully offered as the Agent nodded and left.

They flipped through the background checks, making sure to note their doctors, hospital histories, any surgeries they had, and anything else that could possibly connect them, or their husbands, to one another. They found just what they expected: nothing. This guy hadn't left behind anything, not a single clue. Nothing beyond a motive, and a personality that could be defined by criminal profiling. 

Mulder and Scully were both frustrated, searching for a break in the case. Anything would be helpful. While Mulder poured over the crime scene photographs, searching for anything to add to the profile, Scully went back to Quantico. She searched over the bodies for a second time, hoping to find some tiny detail that the lab techs, the city coroner, and even herself had missed. She used an ALS, alternating light source, to try and render visible any hair, fibers, or prints. She completely exhausted every available resource, determined to find *something.*

Still, they both found nothing. This guy was good. Mulder could easily see that the man had planned out each murder and kidnapping. He also knew that these women were most likely dead, and another couple would suffer the same fate if he and Scully did not find something soon. Compared to the previous agents, they had made a bit of headway; at least they had a profile now. Still, they wanted nothing more than to figure this case out, save some lives, and get it off of their minds. Unfortunately, that didn't look like it was happening any time soon, especially not without another murder. They had released a warning to the media, for women to be on the lookout for a dangerous stalker. Beyond that, they had been able to do little to protect anyone at all.

Tired, annoyed, and thoroughly frustrated, both agents left for the day rather late. They had genuinely tried their hardest, but nothing had come of it. Honestly, they weren't used to this. Lately they'd cracked their cases early, and though they rarely wrapped up quickly, they were never clueless for this long. Between their own personal woes and their professional ones, both Mulder and Scully simply wanted to relax. Mulder had a night full of watching a video that wasn't his, followed by some well needed rest in mind. He'd have to take a sleeping pill, and although he hated drugs, he knew he needed the rest. He had to get back on the top of his game, which was hard to do with almost no evidence.

Scully planned on a long, hot, bubble bath with a carton of ice cream. When she arrived home, however, she realized she had no ice cream. That would not do, so she drove over to the deli on State Street. It was dark by the time she had arrived there, and she hadn't realized how long she'd spent in the autopsy bay. Yes, she definitely needed some double chocolate chip ice cream after such a day. She parked her car and walked into the deli, noting how empty it was. She glanced at her watch. Ei_ght o'clock, already?_, she found herself thinking. They usually closed any time between eight and nine, depending on business. She smiled at her good luck at it still being open. As she walked towards the ice cream aisle, she heard footsteps behind her. She spun around, and saw her butcher, Jack.

"Hi, Dana," he said.

"Hey, Jack," she smiled.

"Ice cream aisle... Rough day?" he asked.

"Yeah, actually, tough day at work."

"Oh, what do you do?"

"I'm an FBI Agent, and we're working on this terrible case. Someone's stalking DC women, kidnapping them, and killing their husbands or lovers."

"Oh, that's pretty grim. Hey, um, maybe, if you want to take your mind off of it, we could go out to dinner."

Fabulous. First her panic over the Mulder situation, then the difficulty with the case, and now she had to let her butcher down easy? Sure, he was attractive--and maybe a few years ago she would have dated him. Now, however, it was too late. She was stuck in love with her partner, and she was pretty sure it wouldn't change any time soon.

"I can't, Jack," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, okay," he said, trying to appear unaffected but failing.

"Thanks for the offer, though," she smiled, reaching in to the freezer to grab a carton of ice cream. "I really appreciate the gesture."

Jack just smiled. "You're lucky you got here, I was just about to close up."

"It's just about all the luck I've had today," she said, sighing. 

"Well, I'm sure that'll all change soon, Dana. C'mon, I'll ring the ice cream up for you up front."

She followed him, feeling rather flattered at his offer. It was the second time in as many days a man had made her feel attractive. Of course, coming from Mulder, it meant far more than from her butcher. He was attractive, though, and she had to admit she had had a little bit of a thing for him ages ago, when she'd first started shopping at this deli. Of course, within the first two years of working with Mulder, she'd stopped having any personal life, and therefore stopped dating. She got her change and walked out the door.

As she walked up the street to her car, she went to put the change into her wallet. Looking at it, however, she realized she'd been given the wrong amount of money back. He'd given her ten dollars too much. Sighing to herself, she stopped walking, knowing her conscience wouldn't permit her to keep the extra money. She turned around, still looking at the money in hand, when she bumped into someone. As she raised her head up to apologize, a strong hand reached around her, and grabbed her by the hair at the base of her neck. She gasped, and met her attacker's eyes.

Jack. The butcher! The cuts on the bodies... The knife experience... Those women, she must've seen them shopping here! Jack was the murderer, and he must've figured out she was on the case. He must've assumed she was on to him.

Before she could reach for her gun, grabbed her arms. He was bigger than her, and well-built. His blue eyes burned into hers, and he gently ran his hands up and down her arms. "So beautiful, my Love," he whispered, and she realized she was wrong about why he was attacking her.

He wasn't just trying to kill the FBI who knew to much. He had been stalking her, too, a mere coincidence. But she had no lover for her to kill...

__

Mulder! was the last thought in her mind before he shoved a rag in her face. Scully's thoughts all faded to black as the chloroform invaded her breath.

****

AUTHORS **NOTES**: Bum bum bum. Hope it's good. Oh, and a note to Teresa…Colton was the agent in Tooms who was being a jerk. *Sigh,* Season One, way back in the day. Should've made that more clear. I'll have the next chapter up soon, because I'm leaving for at least two, if not three, weeks on July 5th. Schools out! That means frequent updates before/after vacation, except when I have to read 4 books for AP English and all 709 pages of Northwest Passage for AP American…grrr…maybe those updates *won't* be so frequent…

Jillian no function reviews well without.


	4. Chapter Four

* * * * * *

Mulder sighed, and opened another bag of sunflower seeds. He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. He had to crack the case, to use a tired cliché. Besides, if he took his mind off of the case it would drift to Scully. Once his mind was on *her*, there was no turning back. 

So he went over everything again. The profile, every last shred of evidence. Everything. He killed the lovers, left them behind except for their hearts, which he probably later destroyed, and took the women with him. He was careful, no hesitation cuts. It was premeditated and planned, and seemingly perfectly executed. He took the women to his own home, most likely, where they were all probably dead by now. He doesn't seem like the type who's trying to accumulate many wives, although it was a possibility. Maybe he's a strict Mormon. He doubted it, though. 

The sound of feet falling on the floorboards outside his apartment shook him from his thoughts. Maybe Scully was coming by to discuss the case. Maybe she bought him pizza, which would be nice since he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He glanced at his desk clock. It was nearing nine o'clock. If she was coming over, she probably had some kind of a reason for dropping by so late. When he heard a knock at the door, he was happy for the distraction--especially if it was his partner.

Which is why he was shocked to see something *else* at the door. Not his happy partner, bringing him food, but something far less pleasing. There was a man holding an unconscious Scully in his arms, a gun against her side. Mulder immediately remembered the man, thanks to his photographic memory--Scully's butcher. Of course! All the pieces fit together, but it was too late for his profile now.

"You move, or make a sound, and I will shoot her," the man said, his voice low, deep, and devastatingly serious.

"Scully?" Mulder asked, in shock at the sight before him.

"I know she's an FBI Agent and I have her gun. I know you may be one, too. So just don't move and I won't hurt her. I promise I won't hurt her if you don't move and you don't scream."

Mulder nodded mutely.

"Okay," Jack nodded. "Keep your hands on your head," he said, as Mulder did so. "and move back." 

Jack walked in the door, and kicked it closed without turning around. He kept looking at Mulder and backed up towards his couch, where he gently placed Scully down. He kept his gun pointed at her--never dreaming of actually shooting her, but knowing from experience that these men would usually rather die than watch their lovers die. 

"Do you have a gun on you?" Jack asked.

"Not on me, no, I'm unarmed," Mulder said, honestly. His gun was in the bedroom.

"Please, you don't have to do this. I can get you help," Mulder began, as he walked towards the couch. He had to help her.

"Get away from her!" Jack screamed, pointing his gun at Mulder. Mulder slowly backed away. "No, you don't understand," Jack continued. "I *love* her. I know you love her too, but you're not who she needs. She needs *me.*" 

"What did you do to her?" Mulder demanded.

"She's fine, it's chloroform. Give her a couple of minutes, she'll come around. I told you, I'm not going to kill her."

"Really? Is that what you told the other men about their wives? Gary, and Bill, and," he struggled for the other man's name, "and Mike? Did you tell them you wouldn't hurt their lovers? You didn't keep that promise, did you? It never works out, does it?"

"They were DIFFERENT! They weren't HER!"

"You felt that way for all of them, didn't you! You just want someone to love you, don't you?"

"SHE WILL LOVE ME!"

"How many women can you say that about? Where are those three women now, Jack? What did you do to them?"

"They were different, they didn't love me. I can make her love me."

They were interrupted by a low moan of pain coming from the couch. Jack kept his gun on Mulder and walked towards Scully. "Hey, Dana, it's okay. It's all gunna be okay, Love. I'm gunna take care of you, I promise,"

Groggy, Scully looked for the owner of the voice. She wanted to see Mulder, but she knew it wasn't him. It was Jack. Jack the butcher, whom she didn't suspect for a moment. Jack, who had asked her out on a date. Jack, who assumed that she and Mulder were lovers... Who would carry out his plan. Kill the male, take the woman home for later. Her mind began to reel at their theories of what happened to those couples...Mulder with his heart out, her lying bruised and violated on a cold basement floor....

"Mulder," she called out hazily.

"Yeah, Scully, I'm here, I'm here," her partner assured her. She lifted her head a bit and met his gaze. 

Jack, who was right in front of her, said, "Dana, Love, it's okay. *I'm* here now. We'll forget about this guy, and you and I will get out of here."

"Jack, please don't do this. It'll all be over, we can get you help, if you just put that gun down and walk away from this," Scully pleaded.

"You'll see, Dana. It'll be so *wonderful.*"

"You've got it all wrong, anyway, Jack," Scully said. "Mulder and I aren't lovers. We're work partners...we're friends. But we aren't lovers."

"I've seen the way he looks at you, Dana, and he loves you. He loves you," the man said, his gun steady on Scully.

"I do. Who says I'm lucky enough for her to love me back?" Mulder asked, quietly.

Jack said nothing, as if he was considering Mulder's statement.

"Let him go, Jack. He's not my lover. You don't have to compete with him. You don't have to cut out his heart, because we aren't together," she began. "You can just let him leave. It's *me* you want. He doesn't know anything about you, just your first name. Take me, but don't hurt him. There's no reason to."

"Scully, no," Mulder began, shaking his head at her.

"SHUT UP!" Jack screamed. "Dana, Dana...if this is true..." he paused, "why didn't you accept my dinner invitation?"

"I didn't have the time, Jack, I've got a busy job. My caseload is heavy. Mulder isn't at fault. It isn't his fault I said no,"

"Scully--" Mulder interrupted, but he was met by the same fate from his partner.

"We're partners at work, Jack. They'd split us up for fraternizing. We can't be involved," Scully said.

"Scully, don't sacrifice yourself for me--"

"SHUT UP! YOU!" he pointed to Mulder with his weapon, "Is this true?"

"Kill me but let her go." Mulder said simply. "Let her go, let her get the hell out of here, and I won't kill you. Because I swear to God if you hurt her, I will kill you myself."

"That's not how it works," Jack said, simply. "She's the one I love."

"Which is why you should let him go--he has no place here with us."

"STOP IT!" Jack screamed. "I need to think. This changes everything. Where is your weapon?" he asked Mulder.

"In my bedroom," he said, with a calm calculation only Scully could recognize. Mulder had a plan, she knew that expression on his face. She'd seen it when they had stood before mutants or serial killers...he knew what he was doing.

"Where in your bedroom?" he asked.

"The drawer of the night table on the right hand side of my bed."

"Okay," Jack said. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the handcuffs he had taken off of Scully earlier. 

Jack pointed the gun at Scully again, bringing it closer to her temple. He quickly snatched one of her wrists, tiny inside his own. He looked around, searching for something to secure her too. She struggled a bit, but she was still groggy from the chloroform. She was also afraid that any struggle would tempt him into pulling the trigger. He attached one side of the cuff to the wrist in his hand, and pulled her forcibly up off of the couch with a grip on her forearm.

"Hey," Mulder began, angrily.

"I'll shoot her," was Jack's simple reply, and Scully felt the cold metal being pressed up against her temple.

Mulder looked at him, and the to Scully. With his eyes, he conveyed a sense of calm to her, and nodded a bit.

Jack led her over to the radiator beside Mulder's desk. He took the open end of the cuffs and latched it to one of the pipes of the radiator. He tugged at it a bit to make sure it was secure, and when he was pleased, he looked down at her.

"If you promise to do as I say, I won't hurt her," Jack said to Mulder.

Mulder nodded grimly. When Jack took out a piece of cloth and went to gag Scully with it, she turned her face away, and Mulder spoke up.

"No gag. If you won't hurt her, she won't have to yell for help. Keep your part of the deal."

"All right. But Dana, if you make any noise while he and I walk away, I kill him for sure. I'm considering your proposition of letting him go, and you and I can get the hell out of this place."

She mirrored Mulder's nod from moments before.

"Okay, you, come with me," he said, nodding at Mulder. "We're going to go get your gun."

The two men walked towards Mulder's bedroom. Once inside, Jack turned to Mulder and said, "The right hand night table?" Mulder nodded mutely, exhaling a breath he'd been holding. God, he hoped this plan would work. But he knew he couldn't get away with yelling for help--this guy was a loose cannon. He had to do everything he could to keep her safe... 

He had told Jack where his gun was for one reason: Jack assumed he had only one weapon. The smaller gun that he kept in his ankle holster, however, was in a different drawer in a different night table. People called him paranoid, but he was simply prepared for such an instance. If someone wanted his weapon, they could have it...but they wouldn't know about his second one.

Mulder turned his head towards the doorway behind him, gazing down the hallway. God, how did this happen? How was he going to be able to live with himself if this creep hurt her? He knew what this guy had planned...and he knew he had to stop it. He chanted it over and over in his head, the other gun, the other gun, the other gun.

Unfortunately, he had neglected to realize he had his back turned away from Jack. Jack, however, saw this, and took advantage of the opportunity. He spun around to face Mulder, and quickly hit hard him over the head with the weapon he'd removed from the drawer. Mulder staggered a bit, and then collapsed to the floor in a heap, a bit of blood trickling down his forehead.

Jack was slightly worried about not having cuffs to secure Mulder with, but he figured if he blocked the door with a chair, it'd keep Mulder out in his injured state. He left the other man lying on the floor, as he walked towards the door. He felt a twinge of guilt, but immediately dismissed the thought. He was no villain, he was a hero! He was taking away Dana, his goddess, to be his forever...he just wanted to love her, and to be loved back. He could see it in her eyes--she would love him. Not like the others. 

He walked out of the room, eyeing the door behind him. He wondered how long Mulder would be out for, but decided it would be long enough. Still, he wanted to be cautious. As he stepped out into the hallway, he looked around. There wasn't much to block the door with, and he sighed. He walked into the kitchen.

"Where's Mulder?" Scully asked.

"Quiet, Love. It's okay."

"What did you do to him?" she demanded.

"Nothing permanent, Love. Just a bump on the head," he replied.

"You said you wouldn't hurt him," she began, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

"Shh, Sweetheart. Shh," he hushed her, taking a chair from the kitchen to put under the doorknob to the bedroom. 

Scully shifted nervously. She hoped she had read Mulder correctly on this one. If he didn't have a plan, they were screwed. She was afraid; Mulder must've been hurt. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to be a personal case...it wasn't even an X-File. Jack walked in, and she noticed that he had two guns on him, one hers, and one Mulder's. She knew he had a knife on him, that was a given. It was his weapon of choice, after all. He walked towards her, and she instinctively tried to get away. Of course, the cuffs left her with nowhere to go.

He knelt beside her, and at first said nothing. He just looked at her, taking her in. Studying her like a precious work of art; he wanted nothing more than to spend eternity staring at her. That would be his ideal life--waking up beside her each and every morning, being able to look, to touch, to kiss, to hold her.... 

He brought his hand to her arm and she shook him away. It was more of a reflex than a voluntary action, but she didn't want his hands on her either way. He stared at her, his eyes cold and icy. She shuddered a bit, but didn't want him to see it. Strong, Dana, she told herself. Hold on until Mulder gets here. If she could convince herself that it was just a little longer, she'd be able to get through this.

"Dana, my Love, we need to talk about Mulder," he began. Just a little longer, he'll be gone soon. Mulder will be back and Jack the creepy butcher will be gone. "He says you're not lovers. Is that true?"

"Yes. We're not lovers," she said. "Just friends and partners."

"Have you ever kissed?" he asked.

"No." Just a little longer.

"Really?"

Just a little longer.

"Really. You don't have to kill him."

"Dana, even if you're not lovers, I'm afraid I *do*. I've seen the way he looks at you. He loves you. He even admitted it, you heard him," Jack said.

"It doesn't fit the pattern, Jack..." she said.

"Don't get all FBI on me, Love. None of that matters. You matter," he told her.

His hand reached out towards her face, and he ran it down her cheek towards her neck. He traced her collarbone. A little longer. God, she hoped Mulder was okay. A little longer. 

She couldn't wait just a little longer.

"Is that what you told the others?" she asked.

"What?" Jack said, pulling his hand away.

"The other women. The other women you *killed*, Jack. You did kill them, didn't you?"

She could see something building in his eyes. Anger. Hatred. A terrible want, no a need, for love. Love that he needed to get--by any means necessary. He said nothing.

"You killed them. But not after you ruined them, Jack. You lied, you said you loved them too, didn't you? But you ruined them. You killed the people they loved. You made them miserable. You violated them for your own selfish reasons."

"No. NO!"

"Yes, Jack. You raped those women, didn't you?" she said, angrily. She felt the anger build up in herself. She hated this man. Hated that he was able to do this to women. Hated that it was quite possible that he'd do it to her. "You ruined them. And in the end, they had nothing, but they STILL didn't love you so you killed them. Admit it Jack. You didn't love ANY of them. You don't love me either."

"I DO!"

"You're digging a deeper and deeper grave. You won't get away with this one, Jack. You'll end up in prison for life--and for what? You didn't get any of the love you want. This isn't the way to get it. We can get you help."

"JUST LOVE ME!" He screamed.

"You DON'T love me, Jack. You didn't love ANY of those women! Don't make the same mistake, Jack. Three times is bad enough. Turn around, Jack. Just let me go now, and I'll get you help. I'll plead on your behalf. I'll get you somewhere where they'll give you the help and the affection you need."

"No. No, Dana, my Love. That's not how this works. I love you, and you're GOING to love me back! You will!"

"You don't. I won't."

He had heard enough. He reached out for her, angrily, ignoring her cries for help. "Please don't do this. You don't have to do this," over and over, louder and louder. She was trying to wake Mulder. She couldn't let this happen. It wouldn't happen. Mulder would save her. He always did. Another part of her mind said her luck had run out. Besides, Jack's hands were on her...up and down her sides in a sickening rhythm. She held back tears of fear--tears she was ashamed of, even if they only welled behind her eyes. Suddenly, the shame didn't matter. He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her and Mulder and it was going to be over. The tears began to spill over, running down her cheeks.

"Oh, Love, don't cry."

The tears continued, but he ignored them. He moved in to kiss her, and she shook her head. Frantically, she tried to get away from him. He became annoyed with her, and backed off for a moment. He noticed the tears again. "Stop fucking crying!" he yelled. He was becoming clumsy with the weapons in his hand, so he turned on the safety and put them in his pants. 

She couldn't let herself fall apart. She sniffled a bit, and her tears became fewer in number. It was not a response to his request, but to her pride. If this guy was going to hurt her, she wasn't going to let him get the satisfaction of knowing that. She would be strong, just like always. Soon enough, the tears had stopped falling. She had regained control of her emotions, and knew she had to regain control of the situation as well. Just as he returned to her, he heard a loud noise coming from down the hall.

Scully was never so relieved in her life. Mulder was coming.

Mulder continued to fling himself against the door. The blood that had trickled down his head didn't phase him. He didn't care that he was in pain. No, none of that mattered. Scully was out there and she need his help. So he slammed against the door, over and over. In his hand, he held the weapon he normally concealed in his ankle holster. Slam. Slam. Slam. Crack. Crack.

Suddenly, he flew threw the door. Jumping over the broken wood of the chair and the splinters of the door, he barely landed upright. The blow to the head left him dizzy, and he knew he likely had a concussion. That didn't matter. Not now. He haphazardly ran down the hallway, and then he saw him. Scully was fighting against him, trying to fend him off, while he tried to touch her. His hands reached out to hold her arms still, but she was moving as much as possible with the cuffs on. Nothing had ever made him so furious in his life.

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF HER!" Mulder screamed, waving the gun at him.

"I love her," he began, his voice oddly calm. He rose, and walked away from Scully and towards Mulder. "I just want to love her."

Jack didn't have to reach for his gun. Just having seen him near her, attempting to do to her what he had done to those other women, was enough for Mulder. Without hesitation, Mulder pulled the trigger twice. He thanked god for being at an angle that put Scully, who was behind Jack, in no danger. Even if the bullet passed through Jack, it wouldn't head in her direction. 

Jack's body jolted as the bullets entered his stomach, one after the other. He stayed upright for a moment, but then dropped to his knees. He slumped down against the couch. His mouth gaped open, and blood began to trail out from his lip. Mulder felt no pity for the man. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the key to the cuffs. He went over to Scully, who was shaking a bit, and released her.

"Did he touch you?" Mulder asked, the look on his face painfully serious.

"No," she said, her voice betraying her attempt at being stoic. "I'm fine. He didn't do any damage."

"Did. He. Touch. You?" Mulder repeated, not believing her answer, sounding almost angry.

She sighed. "A little bit, nothing serious. My face, up and down my sides," she said, getting up to try and stop Jack's bleeding. "I'm fine, Mulder. You stopped him before he could actually do anything considered harassment. I know that's what you're worried about, but I'm fine." Mulder nodded silently.

She moved over to Jack's side, and took off his jacket and shirt. She applied pressure to his wounds, but she could see that he was fading out. She quickly put two fingers to his pulse, and turned to Mulder. "Pulse is thready...call an ambulance. I don't think he's going to make it." Scully laid him on his back as Mulder called for the ambulance. Her hands shook a bit as she moved them back to his wounds. She was covered in blood.

"What did you do with those women?" she demanded.

"Love..." was all he murmured.

"Where are they?" she asked, her voice just as demanding.

"Happy."

"Where?"

"Home," he said.

She sighed outwardly, knowing he wasn't going to offer her any real information.

She glanced down for a moment at the deep crimson stain on the floor and on her hands. Another murderer. Another criminal on the floor of one of their apartments. Another case that hit too close to home. It almost took away her life, and the life of the person she cared most deeply about. She and Mulder waited in silence, but she finally turned to speak to him.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For having my back."

"Always, Scully. Don't worry. I'm always there," he said.

They shared a quiet silence, as Jack died on the floor beneath them. The feelings that had been swelling within them for so long now were reaching a peak. How many close calls would it take? How many more people had to die on the floor of their lonely apartments before they'd let themselves love one another? They made eye contact, but the whine of an ambulance interrupted them. Scully returned her attention to the man laying before her. His chest had stopped heaving. Her fingers searched for pulse, but she found nothing.

"He's dead," she said.

"We have an ID now. We can find his house, and in turn the women."

"Your profile was right, Mulder. He was a butcher. I can't believe we missed that," she sighed. "Those women, they had seen familiar because I had shopped with them."

"We got him, Scully. He's never going to hurt another person again."

"He got six already," she sighed.

"Yeah, but he didn't get us," Mulder said. "That counts for something, right?"

"That counts for everything I've got," she smiled sadly.

"Me and you, Scully. That's all I really want, anyway," he said.

Neither of them took time to contemplate the statement. They could hear the police running up the stairs.

The police walked in, and they both found themselves thinking that this scene was far too familiar. They took his pulse, but the frown on the EMTs face told Mulder that Scully was right. He was dead. They removed the body, and the police stayed behind to take their statements. They had plenty of evidence on him, including the murder weapon he'd used on the other women. 

Scully identified his car outside, and they found the chloroform he'd used to drug her. They called a team of agents and sent them over to the address on his drivers license, after first contacting AD Skinner. He praised them for solving the case, and assured Mulder that the Bureau would take care of the damage to his apartment. They offered to head out to Jack's house, but Skinner told them to take the night off. In fact, he was so pleased that they had solved a case so many others had trouble with, he told them to take the week off.

Of course, Mulder didn't take this for a blessing. He was concerned that they were trying to keep him off of the X-Files for as long as possible, without making it look that way. Besides, what had they really done to solve this case? Nothing. The guy just happened to be stalking Scully. Mulder voiced his concern about being delayed from work to Scully, but she simply told him he was being more paranoid than usual. He listened to her for once; why not just enjoy the remained of the week with Scully?

"Pack some stuff, Mulder. You can stay at my place while they clean up here."

"I'll be fine here, Scully. Couldn't take too long to clean it..."

"Mulder, the blood has soaked into the floorboards. They'll probably have to strip and replace them. Then there's your bedroom door. It definitely won't be finished until at least tomorrow evening, if they start in the morning. I'll be happy to have some company," she smiled.

"Okay," he said, "if you insist." With a grin, he walked into his bedroom, and packed a few things.

****

AUTHORS **NOTES**: Just about one chapter left…and then some authors notes. I know the butcher was painfully obvious. I know A LOT of things about this fic I dislike, but I'll say more about that after I post the ending. Anywho, the ending is my favorite, and in my opinion, the best part, so keep reading. Please. Thanks for the feedback! 


	5. Chapter 5

The ride to her apartment was relatively uneventful. They were quiet, thinking. Mulder pondered over staying at her apartment. Why had he been so reluctant? What was he afraid of? Was he afraid that he wouldn't be able to resist her; that he'd spill the contents of his heart and soul at her feet? No. He wasn't afraid of doing that.

He was afraid of her response if he should do such a thing.

The car pulled up in front of her building, finding a close and convenient spot near the door. They walked inside, and Scully shuddered a bit. Jack had been watching her. What had he seen? What did he think when he stood there and watched her toss and turn in bed? She closed her eyes, taken back a bit. She hadn't had a chance to think about this part of her situation. This guy had been stalking her. He had planned for her to end up like all of those other women...

"Scully?" Mulder asked, quietly.

"Huh?" she replied, snapping out of it.

"You okay?" he asked cautiously.

"Fine. I'm fine. Just thinking, that's all," she said.

"What about?" he asked, opening to door to the building for her.

She paused for a while as they walked down the hallway.

"Just about this entire situation. That I'm lucky I'm an FBI Agent. If I wasn't, I could very well be dead on the floor of my butcher's house."

Mulder offered a weak smile as she opened her apartment door and said, "Well, you're not. Whose to say you'd be here if you weren't an FBI Agent, anyway?" he asked.

"I suppose so," she said, hanging her coat up on the hook by the door. She took Mulder's and did the same. "I suppose you wouldn't have been in any danger."

"But I wouldn't have been too happy, either," said.

She walked towards the couch and motioned for him to follow.

"I never really thought about what life may have been like if I listened to my father and became a doctor. Different, but I wouldn't trade this in for anything."

"Really? Even with," he paused for a moment, "all you've lost?"

"Yeah. I mean, sure, I could have the typical life--my own practice, two point five kids, white picket fence, dog, fire place, businessman husband, but...I wouldn't know all I know now. I wouldn't have experienced it," she said.

"Sometimes I wonder if I would've been better off blissfully ignorant. I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was at Oxford, so when the Bureau drafted me, I decided that it would be a good career. I could look for Sam," he sighed.

"Well, there are bumps on every road, I guess," Scully said. "But what good is a ride without any bumps? You need *some* action once in a while."

"I was scared tonight, Scully. When I walked into the room and I saw him...touching you...I couldn't stop myself from firing my gun. I wanted him dead more than anything. I was so afraid to lose you."

"I know the feeling. I sat there, waiting for you, thinking he'd hurt you worse than you were hurt... Praying he hadn't done anything a little time couldn't heal."

"I must say, I am a bit dizzy."

"You should've let the doctors check you out," she sighed.

"Why? I've got my own Doctor Scully right here," he smiled.

"You've probably got a concussion. You need some rest. You can sleep in my bed if you'd like, and I could take the couch."

"Scully, are you nuts? Number one, no gentleman would send a woman to the couch and take the bed. Two, since when have I slept in a bed? Couches suit me just fine, thank you."

"All right then. You should get ready for bed."

"I just want to stay here a little longer," he said. "Make sure I still have you here, that it's not some comatose dream I'm having on the floor of my bedroom."

"It's not," she said quietly, taking his hand. "I'm still here."

They held one another's gaze for a moment, and suddenly they felt themselves draw closer, almost involuntarily. Mulder's hand cupped Scully's face, and his thumb stroked the soft skin of her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes closed for a moment. She opened them, and he was drawing closer...closer...closer...

Until his cell phone rang.

The sudden noise broke the connection, and Mulder's hand fell to his side. Scully turned her head a bit, annoyed with herself. They had almost kissed! This went against everything she had told herself about him. Still...she missed the closeness she had felt with him just seconds ago.

"Mulder," he said into his phone.

She listened to his end of the conversation, which consisted of mostly "Uh-huh," "okay," "sure," and similar acknowledgments. He carried on for a few minutes, and hung up the phone quietly. He looked to Scully and said simply, "They found the women."

"In his house?" she asked.

"Yes. On the floor of his basement. Initial exams conducted at the crime scene show they were raped, and then their throats were slit. All three of them."

"Jesus," she sighed.

"Yeah. We're lucky," he said.

"Well, um, I'd better get you some blankets and then shower..."

"Yeah, I'll go change into my sweats. Thanks, Scully," he said.

"No problem," she smiled.

Scully meandered down her hall, and retrieved a blanket and pillow from the linen closet. She walked back out into the living room, unfolded the blanket, and set the pillow at the end of the couch. Moments later, he walked back inside in sweatpants and a tight muscle tank top. She sucked in a breath, noticing his lean, muscular chest and arms. He smiled softly and said, "Thanks again, Scully."

"Thank you, too, Mulder," she sighed. "Goodnight."

"Night," he smiled. Scully shut the light and quickly jumped into the shower. She needed to wash away the days events, to feel clean again.

Mulder stared at the ceiling of Scully's apartment. Had he read her wrong? Maybe she didn't love him, maybe she was just his friend. His best friend, but his friend. When his cell phone rang, she had spun her head around. Was she shocked? Embarrassed? Annoyed with him? He didn't know. The one person who's brain he'd love to pick was the only person he couldn't seem to read. He didn't know what to do, but his head hurt and he was exhausted. He hadn't had any semblance of sleep in a few days, as he'd been in profiling mode. Shifting on to his side, his eyes slowly drifted closed. Scully was there, maybe as only his friend, but that didn't matter. She'd be there in the morning, and that was all he needed.

After a long, hot shower, Scully changed into her pajamas, slowly buttoning the top. She studied the way her hands moved over the buttons, desperately trying to distract herself from her thoughts. She had almost let herself kiss Mulder. Her partner. The one man who was off limits to her; the only man she wanted. What if that phone had not have rung? Would she be lying next to him instead of lying alone? Would she wake up in a panic, having ruined everything?

Did he love her? That was the real question on her mind. A scene from earlier in the day had replayed in her mind. "I've seen the way he looks at you, Dana, and he loves you. He loves you," Jack had said. Mulder's reply was simple: "I do. Who says I'm lucky enough for her to love me back?" He had admitted it there. She knew he had admitted it before, and she wondered if he remembered. He was hopped up on plenty of drugs at the moment, and laying in a hospital bed, but he had told her he loved her. Now he had implied it again. What kind of love? 

The question plagued her, but sleep won the battle over thought. Her heavy eyelids settled down, and she descended into sleep; a fabulous place where she didn't have to think for a little while. Mulder would be there in the morning, and she could sort things out then.

When the morning arrived, neither of them wanted to deal with it. Scully woke up, and glanced at the clock next to her. Ten thirty? She hadn't slept so late in ages! She walked out of her bedroom and into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Once her breath was minty fresh, she walked into the living room. She saw Mulder sitting up, watching the television with the remote in his hand.

"Mornin', Scully," he said.

She smiled at him and said, "Did you eat breakfast?"

"No," he admitted.

"Well, I can't have you malnourished, now can I?" she asked, playfully. 

As she opened the cabinet, Mulder noticed that she stood on her tip toes so she could reach her hand to the back of the shelf. He always found things like that about Scully so unusual; he often forgot how short she was. He knew it was one of those things that bothered her, so with the exception of a few remarks, he almost never mentioned it. 

"Found it," she said, more to herself than to Mulder. "Pancakes sound good?" she asked, holding up the box of Bisquick.

"Sure, thanks," he said.

The morning passed mundanely. There was no mention of the embrace they had shared the night before. Things always seemed to happen that way for them. When they had almost kissed in the hallway outside of his apartment, it was never mentioned again. They never returned to that moment, instead they just carried on as if it had never happened. The same thing happened after Mulder had told Scully he loved her. She played it off as the drugs, and neither of them mentioned it again. There they were, Mulder having had insinuated that he loved her last night, and almost kissed her, and it was being ignored again. They didn't know how much more they could take.

After breakfast, they sat down to do the paperwork the case required. Little things here and there to be finished; expense accounts, field reports, case addendums. They were caught up in the mundane task and said little to one another during it. Had things become awkward, or were they merely sidestepping the issue of their feelings? Would this be it--the thing that would lead to them confessing their feelings? Or would it be another hallway encounter, another "I love you," that was merely locked away in their thoughts and never mentioned again? 

The day dragged on uneventfully. They ordered a pizza since neither of them felt like cooking, and sat down on the couch. Mulder grabbed the remote, and flipped on the television. He surfed through a couple of channels, finally settling on the local news. The weather-girl was talking about the weather, which was become more and more pleasant every day. The woman was young, with an annoying, piercing voice and this bubbly giggle that both of the agents loathed. She finished her forecast with the tired cliché, "March comes in like a lion and out like lamb! Back to you, John!"

Both agents sighed out loud. What the male reporter said, however, gained their attention.

"And Washington citizens are able to rest a little easier tonight, knowing that the man who was stalking and abducting women, and killing their lovers, was killed in a conflict with two Federal Agents late last night," he said. The screen went from the reporter to a shot of the outside of Mulder's apartment building.

"I don't remember those cameras," Mulder said.

"Neither do I, but there we are," Scully sighed.

"The trouble for him began when he targeted a female agent who was actually working on the case. He attacked her in her male partner's home, mistaking them for lovers. The male agent shot the man while he was trying to attack his partner. The man has been identified as Jack Burns, a butcher at a local deli. Later that night, police found the women he had kidnapped and raped, dead in his home."

"They must've got the information from the police report," Scully sighed. "They paint us as heroes, but we didn't really do anything. I mean myself, not you, you shot him, but all I did was get myself stalked," she sighed.

"I can't say I shot him heroically, Scully. I shot him because of what he wanted to do to you. I shot him out of hatred and rage."

"Yeah, well, it was the right call. We showed up on the news and not the obituaries," she sighed.

"Thank God," he sighed.

"Yeah," she said quietly. The room was quiet except for the television.

"Well, um, they ought to be done with the flooring by now," Mulder said.

"Yeah, probably," Scully said.

"I'd better get going, then. Um, thanks for letting me stay here," he said.

"No problem, Mulder. You're always welcome here."

He walked into the bathroom to retrieve his overnight bag, and walked back into the living room. He slipped on his shoes, and took his jacket from the hook by the door. He looked over to her and said, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Scully."

"Yeah. See you later."

Tomorrow. They both sighed when they were alone. Outside, the rain began to fall as they thought to themselves. This case would just become another locked away memory, another crimson stain on their lives... Without any result. Another painful case, and no good would come of it. Only the rain, some spilled blood, and a memory they'd hold on to, but never discuss.

They both restlessly tried to relax, but they couldn't keep their minds off of one another. Scully paced back and forth in her apartment. The lights were off, and it was dark inside. She could hear the sound of the rain hitting the pavement outside, slamming down in a punishing rhythm. She sighed outwardly, noticing how hard the rain was coming down--and just how fitting it was that it began when Mulder left.

Feeling melodramatic for her last thought, she decided she needed to clear her head. She had never fawned over her partner before, and now wasn't the time to begin. Yes, maybe she loved him, but she didn't need to revert to the obsessive thinking of a teenager with a bad crush. She was grimly reminded of a terrible teenage situation: she had a huge crush on one of her friends ex-boyfriends...naturally making him off-limits. God, what was it with her and men who were off limits?

First, in her teenage years, she struggled to remember his name. Ah, Joey, that was it. He was in a rock band, too, a year older than her. She had always had a thing for him, even when her friend was dating him. Of course, it was an unwritten code: you don't date your friends ex. Everything about this boy screamed unattainable, just like Mulder. One was a rocker who had dated her friend, and one was her partner who *was* her best friend. 

So, her future with Mulder was written in stone, right? What she had done with the rocker, Joey, would surely be what she did with Mulder. She nostalgically smiled when she replayed the scene of her teenage escapades in her mind. She had showed up at one of the concerts he was playing. It was the beginning of senior year in high school, right before she started dating Marcus. She waited for him afterwards, and they hung out for a while. He offered to drive her home, and she took the ride. They made out in the backseat of his car, up the block from her house so her parents wouldn't see. He told her they could never tell any of their friends. Besides, he was in college...and she was still in high school. 

They never spoke again after that night. So much for grabbing the unattainable, she thought. There had been plenty of others. Daniel, her married med school teacher, was next. She hadn't realized he was married at first, as he hid that from her. Of course, she always knew it was risky dating one of her professors, but she went for it anyway. When she did found out about his wife and daughter, it didn't stop her for quite some time. That also ended terribly. Then came Jack Willis, her FBI instructor at Quantico. That didn't go too well either in the end. He was too pushy and she was too independent. Besides, he didn't want anyone to know he was dating someone he probably shouldn't be. 

So much for grabbing the unattainable.

*All* of these relationships could be compared to Mulder. Boys, or men, who were off-limits to her for whatever reason: girlfriends ex, teacher, married, partner... They all ended the same way. In heartache. Could she let Mulder and her end up that way?

Scully noticed that a tear had slipped down her cheek. She didn't cry for the past, or for the case they had worked, or for herself. She cried for what existed, but could never be. What had the potential to make her life incredible, but only with the risk of tearing it apart...of taking Mulder away from her. She didn't think she was ready, or ever would be, to take that risk.

Deciding to clear her mind a bit, she stretched out on her couch for a while. She just laid there, clinically examining her ceiling above her. She'd find her thoughts wandering to her partner, but she'd change her train of thought quickly enough. The rain kept falling, a rhythmic pit-pat that made her sleepy. Before she knew it, she had dozed off...

She heard her name screamed from the other room. Oh, God, it was Mulder calling for her... Her hands were cuffed to the radiator, she couldn't move, couldn't help him.

All she heard was screams, more and more until they finally ceased. She waited, her breathing heavy and loud. As she grew more and more nervous they became pants, gasps of fear. Then, she saw it, her undoing, her ending, her tragic denouement.

It was Jack, the butcher. With Mulder's heart in his hand. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed....

And realized her hands weren't cuffed. She wasn't in Mulder's apartment. She was at home, on her couch, waking up from a terrible dream. A nightmare. Suddenly, a surge of adrenaline, a mix of the fear from the dream and the urge inside her to make sure Mulder really was okay, had her flying towards the door.

Acting strictly on impulse, she slid on her shoes and neglected to take a coat or umbrella. She walked out the door of her apartment, barely remembering to lock it. She walked down the hall and out the main entrance, into the dark, cold, rainy world outside. She didn't care; she didn't notice the rain. She got into her car and drove, without thinking of where to go. She didn't have to think, she *knew* where she was going. Mulder's house. Her mind wasn't able to tell her why, but the adrenaline in her system said she'd better get there quickly.

Mulder was lounging on his couch. His mind wandered to his partner, the one whom he had almost kissed last night. Why hadn't they ignored the cell phone? He knew why, he was a psychologist, after all. They both had this notion in mind that it was wrong for them to be together, because of work or friendship... But "wrong" never seemed so right.

He knew his thoughts were trite, cliché even. The one woman he cannot have, and he wanted her. Not just wanted, he loved her. Fabulous. The worst part was, though, that part of him knew she loved him back. They were both longing for the same thing, but afraid of the social rules that would hold them back. They both knew damn well that there was no official FBI rule holding them back, but there were also no official FBI rules saying their office could be bugged. If someone on the top of the Bureau's food chain found out about them, they could easily make a case of it interfering with work. That could get them broken up, and that was the last thing either of them wanted.

The knock at the door startled him a bit, and he got up. "Coming," he said, walking towards the door. He wanted to hope that it was Scully, but the last time he hoped that, it was a knife-wielding maniac with a drugged Scully... He looked through the door, however, and saw his partner standing there, soaking wet.

He quickly opened it, shocked by how tiny she seemed to look. She was shaking a little, and her hair was wet from the rain. Her mascara had smeared a bit, but hadn't run. She was dressed as she was when he left her house, without an umbrella or a coat.

"God, Scully, come in, what's wrong?" he asked quickly, ushering her inside.

"Thank God, Mulder, you're okay," she said, her voice a soft whisper.

"Of course I am, Scully. What happened?"

"Jack had cut your heart out and I never got to ask you if you meant," she stopped to take a breath, and suddenly the rational part of her brain clicked on. The rush of the nightmare had wore off, seeing that he was okay, and here she was, spilling her guts to him. 

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice regaining its composure. "I shouldn't have come."

"No, Scully, what's wrong? Is it Jack? Did he--"

"No, it's not Jack. Well, indirectly it is, but I just had a nightmare. That's all."

"Sit down, you're soaked," he said.

"Look at me," she said, with an ironic laugh. "I ran over here like a little kid."

"Scully, don't worry about that. It's just me," he said. "You don't have anything to prove," he said.

He took her into his arms, holding her. She let him, clinging on to him a bit. They adjusted their position so that she was next to him on the couch, but he was still turned to her, holding her. She stayed there for a long time, cherishing the moment.

"So, what didn't you get to ask me?" he asked.

"Hm?" 

"In your dream. You said that Jack killed me, and you never got to ask me..."

"Oh, it's silly," she insisted.

"Mm, obviously not, if it got you upset."

She met his eyes and said, "Okay. I suppose it's now or never, right?" she paused. "When we were with Jack, in your apartment, and he accused us of being lovers he said that he could tell that you loved me, and when he asked about it, you said something like, 'Who says I'm lucky enough for her to love me back?' and it's been driving me crazy. In my dream, I never got an answer to whether or not you meant that, or if it was just to shut up Jack. And now here I am, rambling on and on, probably making an utter fool out of myself, but I just can't live like this anymore," she said, letting out a deep breath.

"Like what?"

"Wondering," she said simply.

"Well, then you deserve an answer. Of course I meant it. I would never say something like that unless I did. I love you Scully, and I have for a long time, but that isn't all. I've never loved a soul the way I love you. I never knew what love was until I fell in love with you. Hell, we both know my life wasn't full of love after Sam was taken, and I never knew what it really felt like. I never really loved anyone after she was gone...until you. You didn't make a fool out of yourself, not in the least."

She smiled a bit, but she said nothing. "You really mean it," she said, half asking him, and half just making a statement.

"I've never been so serious in all of my life. So, do I get an answer, Scully?" he asked.

"Of course, Mulder, of course I'm in love with you. I was just...I don't know, afraid I guess. Of risking what we have. So many times in the past, I tried to be with someone I was told I shouldn't be with, and it ended terribly. I just didn't want that for us. I didn't want to lose our partnership, or worse, our friendship."

"That doesn't have to happen to us, Scully. It won't, it can't. Think about those other men, look me in the eye, and tell me we don't need each other more than any two people on the planet. With our lives, we're desperate for each other and we know it. Hell, for the past six years I've only kept myself alive by working alongside you, and being your friend. Being your lover could only make it a million times better. I'm sure of that."

Her eyes closed, taking in the sincerity of his words. She reveled in the feeling of happiness that this had given her. He loved her back, and they were going to be okay. They were going to make it--together. She had turned around to speak to him, and they were facing one another on the couch. She was sitting Indian style, and she left her hands folded in her lap. She opened her eyes when he reached out and took one hand in his, holding it silently. He was content to sit there with her, just to be next to her for all of eternity. Everything else could wait, just as long as she was there beside him.

When she felt the warmth of his large hand around her small one, however, she yearned for more. Silently, she slowly drew close to him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Butterflies did somersaults in her stomach, and her entire body tingled with the fireworks people always talked so much about. He pulled her closer to him, kissing her more passionately. He never felt loved before, and now suddenly, the only woman who mattered to him loved him back. It was like receiving the love of a goddess; she was the one person who ever took the time to love him. 

In between the kisses, he began to whisper to her.

"I promise, you and I will never fall apart..." his breath on her ear made her shiver. "And that no matter what the rules or anyone else says, you and I need each other, and we're meant to be together," he snuck in more kisses, "and I won't be like any other man you've thought you loved. We won't end up like those relationships, because we *do* love each other, Scully, and we always will."

Her response was a simple whisper, "I know." She kissed him again, lost in the sensation.

Scully was pulled from her reverie when she heard Mulder say, "Scully, when my waterbed broke, I ordered a new bed...and it just got here last week. Wanna go try it out?" His question was accompanied by a big grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Yeah," she said, her grin matching his own.

Suddenly, everything was right in their world. There were no mutants, conspiracies, syndicates, murderers...none of those things existed at that moment. The only things that existed were each other: the feel of their bodies pressed close together, the soft white sheets on Mulder's bed, the smell of Scully's hair, the comfort of Mulder's arms... Nothing could stir them from those precious moments together.

They laid in bed together for a long time afterward, just content to hold one another. It was perfect, nothing had ever felt so right. For once, the blood that had been shed on this case led to something positive. For once, they didn't have to go home and think about the people Jack had killed, or how close he got to killing them, alone. They had one another for comfort, on a higher level than ever before.

It was peace; each of them felt the things they had needed. They felt loved, treasured in the arms of one another. They felt safe, locked away behind bedroom doors and under the covers, protected from any danger that existed outside of the tranquil apartment. They felt happiness, utter elation at staring into one another's eyes. Most of all, they felt *in* love...that sudden *need* for the person beside you, and the urge to hold them forever.

They never, ever wanted to let go.

* * * * * *

Scully sighed, setting the table in her apartment. They had been lovers for only two days, but they were so comfortable around each other that it felt like ages. *It has been ages,* she told herself. They had spent almost all of their time together for the past few years. When they weren't together, they thought of each other. They had only just become lovers in the physical sense; their relationship had been building for a long time.

They had handed in their paperwork on the case to Skinner that morning. It was nice to finally be praised by the AD for once. After all, they did a good job on the case as far as he was concerned. There were no further murders after their involvement, they caught the suspect, and didn't spend any of the FBI's money doing it. Although Scully still felt that they had accidentally solved the case by being involuntarily thrown into it by Jack, she did enjoy the praise of her superior.

So, in a good mood, Scully decided she would cook for Mulder. She told him to come by around seven o'clock for a home cooked meal in celebration of their resolution of the case. Of course, they both knew it was in celebration of something else... Smiling to herself, she glanced at the clock. Six fifty. He'd be there in a matter of minutes. She set the wine out beside two glasses, checked on the chicken, and took out the salad.

She found herself idly fingering the petals of a rose in the center of the table. She had walked past a flower stand on her way home, and bought two long stem roses to put in a vase for their dinner. She glanced at them now, noting their deep, red color. Crimson. 

Crimson. A color she so often associated with blood; the drops on her blouse after a nosebleed, the stain setting into the hardwood floor, the puddle surrounding a criminal they had just taken down. It was a color that brought pain, sorrow, sadness, and loneliness. Crimson.

Mulder changed that for her. The blood that had pooled around Jacks body hadn't brought them any of those things. Instead, it brought them closer together. For that, they only had each other to thank. Crimson stains had become crimson roses, lovely and romantic instead of painful and sorrowful. He had taken her pain and made it into something wonderful, and she had done the same for him.

There was a knock at her door, and she grinned. She opened it slowly, and saw Mulder standing there. He placed a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips. She loved that feeling, the kiss just a prelude of what was to come. That kiss assured her that he was the one she was supposed to be with. His kiss cleared all of the thoughts and worries she had swarming in her brain before, and she smiled.

She really knew, however, that it was all meant to be when he pulled something out from behind his back.

A bouquet of crimson roses.

.End.

****

AUTHORS NOTES: Hello, all! I'd like to say one thing about my opinion of this story: I hate it. Well, maybe not hate, but dislike it a lot. For several reasons. The killer is too obvious. It's trite. It reminds me of my story 'Again' in several ways. It sticks to a general format: case, killer, cracking case, admission of love, sex. I feel like it simply wasn't my best work. [I know it wasn't. I've written plenty of things better than this.]

Of course, I would never say so in the beginning of a story. Who wants to read something even the author didn't like?

If you liked the story, I'm very glad that you did. I appreciate all of the feedback, positive, negative, neutral…it doesn't matter. It's just nice to know people are listening.

I'd like to thank Tefla once again for her beta services. She did an amazing job cleaning this story up, and all remaining mistakes are my own. And of course, thanks to Lauren for being the pain in the ass who always gets me writing. Oh, and to Teresa, for being a "Jillian fan."

Oh, and Jack is actually based on Keifer Sutherland, who is the third cutest guy I can think of that's way too old for me…(Behind David Duchovny and Jon Bon Jovi). That's why he's blonde with that little bit of razor stubble and named after Jack, his character on '24'… I think he plays an awesome villian, as well as hero in the case of '24', but that deep, commanding voice of his just goes so well with a villain (like in the movie Phone Booth) and….mmm…Keifer. ;-) [Don't tell Kenny, Lauren, between David Duchovny and Jared, he's ready to kill me...this from my boyfriend who loves Ms. K and the Pooch, lol.]

Thanks for sticking around, guys. I've got two big stories coming. One is about the possible repercussions of the MSR relationship--you know all those fics that say "we could be split up for this"…well it deals with the question "what if they DID get split up? The other is a total alternate universe fic, my first of the type. I should have the first one I mentioned posted when I return from the beach in three weeks or so.

Happy fourth of July to my fellow Americans. ;-)

That's it. Really. I'm done now.

-Jillian

[Jillian no function feedback well without.]


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